The Family Winchester: Sins of a Father
by wandertogondor
Summary: Part 2 of The Family Winchester. It was a sick game of heavenly cat and mouse. Maxine Winchester knew that much. But she also knew that no matter what God did to tear her family apart: soldiers never die, they simply regroup in hell. SisFic.
1. Hey, Winchester

**This is ****the second part **_**to The Family Winchester. **_**If you haven't read it then that's fine, if you have questions then I'll be more than happy to sum everything up for you :) Hope you enjoy it! If you'd like to leave a review then thank you! I appreciate it. **_  
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* * *

_Get out of here. Change your name…Go to the suburbs and get that apple-pie life you've always dreamed of. Just don't come back._

_Where do you want me to go, Dean?_

_I don't care where you go, Max. Just don't let me watch you die._

I opened my sleep induced eyes to see a large German shepherd sitting at my bedside, his tail wagging and his rough tongue sticking out. His wet nose leaned forward and nudged my face as I propped myself up on my elbow so I could put my hand out to massage his ear.

"Good morning to you too, puppy." I cooed collapsing back into the sheets, and looking at the year old canine from my pillow. If my brothers could see me now, I chuckled to myself. I knew Dean would never let me live it down. The dog nibbled gently on the hand I had pet him with. "Go wake Mr. Grumpy up, Ches." Chester rushed to the other side of the bed and I bit my lip to keep from laughing when Chris jolted up.

"Dammit Ches!" He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand. Now, Chester, in his fit of early morning ecstasy, jumped onto the bed and settled between Chris and me.

"He didn't mean it, Ches." I buried my face in the dog's neck before sitting up straight.

"You told him to do that, didn't you?"

"I did nothing of the sort." I tried but the guilty smile on my mouth gave it away and Chris groaned, falling back into his pillows.

"Get your fat ass outta here, Ches." He tried pushing the Shepherd out of the bed with no avail.

"Chester," I yawned, poking the dog's neck gently. "get down." Chester readily obeyed, carefully stepping over my stomach before jumping off of the gray comforter and sitting neatly on the wooden floor. Chris threw an arm around my waist, placing his head against my chest. Ches charged forward once again, wanting in on part of the action.

"Get lost, Chester." Chris pushed the dog away. "She's mine."

"Man, Ches, you're getting shot down left and right," I laughed, entwining my fingers through Chris' hair. Chester barked like he understood every word I had said then whined as he put his heavy head on my lap.

"It's Saturday, right?" Chris mumbled, absently playing with a lock of my loose hair.

"Yeah," I whispered, running my fingers over the stitches in his upper arm. The vamps we had tracked down last night were some relentless bastards but we managed to get heads to roll nonetheless. I stretched out my sore legs and kicked off my hot socks.

"I have to go to loony town today." Chris rubbed his eyes with the side of his hand.

"Sociology major," I scoffed playfully, smiling down at his mocha colored face. "Did you sleep?"

"Yeah," He sat up just to pull me closer against him. Suddenly, Chester jumped up, sprinting toward the front door just as there was three abrupt knocks. I ran behind the dog, pulling at his collar to answer the FedEx delivery man who I spied through the peep hole. There was a shrill whistle from the bedroom that sent Chester tearing back.

"Miss Campbell?" The man dressed in a brown delivery jacket peered through the half open door.

"Yes?" I glanced at the box in his hands but was handed a clipboard to sign. Quickly scribbling my name on the dotted line, I cocked my head with curiosity when I was handed the package.

Closing the door with my heel once the man had turned his back to me, I weighed the box in my hands.

It wasn't heavy to say the least. There was a swishing sound within as I shook it from side to side. Nearly falling over Chester as he dashed into the kitchen, I stood trying to slice the packing tape with my fingernails before Chris handed me a penknife. Eagerly folding back the ears of the box, I pushed away the bubble wrap and pulled out a CD, John Paul Jones' rune was elegantly drawn with permanent marker on the front of the disc. Chris looked inquisitively over my shoulder.

"_Hey, Winchester_," Ash grinned on the computer screen after I had slid the CD in. "_heard that your last name was Campbell now. How'd I know that, you ask? Well, I did this whole fancy thing with coding I stole from Zuckerburg—who is an asshole, by the way—and I found your beautiful face in some security cameras in Nebraska. I also saw you exchanging some sweet words with Chris Fuenmayor. So, I tracked down all his license plates and voila! Heard you two were a couple now. Best of luck to ya._" Ash's face spontaneously darkened as he glanced over the camera, his eyes filled fear and a bit of paranoia. I swore I heard distant barking in the audio. "_Max, babe, we've had some good times but if you're watching this then that probably means I'm dead. But, don't worry, baby, I'll be fine. Whatever you do, stay under the radar. This is not the time to be showing that pretty face of yours. Oh, yeah, Fuenmayor, take care of her. 'Cause I think she's the only thing that I had. I'll see you on the other side, Max._" The screen went blank as the replay button appeared. The room was dead silent as I ejected the CD quickly and snapped it into two. If Ash warned me to maintain a low profile then I'd leave no track of it. Chris watched quietly as I burned the disc over the fireplace.

"You dated Ash?" He asked skeptically.

'Yeah," I muttered darkly, keeping my eyes glued to the burning plastic. "in college." Chester, sensing the low morale in the room, sat beside me as I squatted over the fire and snuggled against my forearm with his warm head.

"I should get going," Chris began for the shower.

"I'm sorry." I said standing and turning to look back at him. "You shouldn't have found out like that." He just gave me a smile that would make a lesbian fan herself.

"I'm looking after you, Winchester."

I found it quite ironic that Chris was a shrink. He spent hours six days a week listening to other people complain about their lives when their problems where nothing compared to the hell we went through. Saving people, hunting things…getting to shoot weird-ass creatures in the face. We hunters had a lot to complain about but most of us didn't.

Dressing in dirty jeans and one of Chris' old shirts, I headed down to where the Camaro was parked, Chester trotting close behind me. After I had opened the hood, I slid underneath the frame of the muscle car, fiddling around with the plug and loving the feeling of grease and carburetor oil on my fingers. Ches sat on the side of the vehicle, peering under the door to keep a watchful eye on my face as I basked in my childhood memories.

Taking a deep breath I turned to my side under the low frame, adjusting the pan beside my body so it would catch the drips of oil as I removed the filter. The black oil seeped out of the engine and landed loudly on the plastic pan. I remembered the day John Winchester taught me how to change the oil to the Impala. I remember the way my father taught me to check the filter to make sure the rubber gasket had come off or else it would stick to the engine and oil would leak. I missed my brothers then. I missed the way that Dean had always found a way to rub off some of the grimy, black oil on my face. I missed the way that Sam was always worried about me.

Through my reminiscing, I looked up hoping to see Chester but I didn't see his paws trotting around the back of the cars. Straining my neck forward, I saw that silly dog lying on his back at the front of Camaro, a large hand rubbing his chest and two pairs of large boots standing beside him. I rolled out from under the car frame, sitting up to squint at the mammoth figures standing in front of me, My eyes immediately met Dean's, who stood with his hands stuffed in jacket pockets and his mouth set in a firm line. Chester jumped onto all fours as Sam stood up straight, offering a hand to me. Ignoring my youngest brother, I stood and wiped my dirty, oily fingers on the old dish rag I had tucked into my back pocket. There was an awkward, strained silence before Sam began.

"Look, Max,"

"What do you want?" I hissed, catching myself at the last minute to remind myself that I really did miss them.

"We need the box you got this morning."

"Well, looks like you came here for nothing. I burned the disc Ash sent me." I disregarded the proud smirk that passed Dean's mouth. Sam continued,

"We don't want the disc." I started walking up to my condo, the last thing I wanted from Sam was small talk and sympathy. My brothers began following but stopped short under the irritated look I shot past my shoulder.

"Just Sam," I said quietly. A quick flutter of hurt passed over Dean's eyes before he started backing up to stand beside the Camaro with Chester. Sam looked between us, the wheels in his head starting to generate the hard understanding that it wouldn't be easy this time around to make Dean and I sympathico again.

I let Sam stand in the main room to soak in my new life to spew to Dean in the Impala while I secretly tried finding anything on the box that may be what my brothers were looking for. When I couldn't find any minute markings, I walked out of the kitchen and handed it to Sam.

"What are you planning on doing with an empty box, Sam?" Without a word, Sam pulled out the bubble wrap and opened the interior cardboard flap to pull out a silver coin. Taking it carefully from his fingers, I turned the thin mintage between my fingers and inspecting the double-headed women on one side and odd cuneiform on the other.

"Have fun with it then," I flicked the coin back to him.

"It'd have been too dangerous if you stayed with us, Max." Sam finally said when he was halfway to the door. His face was pained and I saw glimmers of tears in his green eyes.

"Sam, I'm in more danger without you." I whispered taken aback when Sam rushed forward and held me in a tight embrace, his chin resting forcefully on my shoulder. I could almost feel the imaginary teardrops falling against my back.

"You can take care of yourself, Max," He pulled away, walking toward the door but stopping once again to finish. "And as much as I hate to say it, I know Chris will take care of you too."

Then he was gone.

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	2. Cain and Abel

General P.O.V with Sam and Dean

Wiping his damp eyes with the rough sleeve of his jacket, Sam walked out of the condominium and spotted Dean leaning against the hood of the Impala on the other side of the congested parking lot. As he walked by the Camaro, Sam gave the large German shepherd a farewell pat on the head, not noticing that the hood of the car was closed and that the metal box filled with tools was neatly placed by the front wheel.

"How's she living?" Dean inquired as his younger brother tossed the empty box into the large recycling bin and slid into shot gun, followed by Dean who started the engine to the car he so doted on. "Sam! How's she living?"

"She changed her name." Sam finally replied with an agitated undertone as Dean pulled out onto the main road. "She's Max Campbell now."

"Well, it's what we told her to do. Just be happy she didn't change her name to Fuenmayor. What a weird-ass name."

"It's a town in Spain, Dean."

"Whatever,"

"Maybe we made a mistake telling her to leave. Maybe we shouldn't have even come here."

"Face it, Sam, she's happy. She's got the dog and the Spanish dude. Look, we needed the coin, we got the coin. You did get the coin, right?"

"Yes, I got the coin."

"Good," Dean finally relaxed, stretching his shoulders slightly to loosen his rigid muscles. "You didn't answer my question: how's she living? How's her condo lookin'?"

"Plain." Sam recalled, shaking his head and rubbing the coin with his calloused fingers. "Barely any furniture. No pictures. They live just like ex-military."

"Yeah, well, all ex-mil have their own fetishes. Did you put the bug in?"

"Yeah," The youngest Winchester sighed. "She's our sister, Dean. We shouldn't be creeping in on her conversations."

"Don't think of it as stalking, Sam. It's more...concern." Sam scrunched his nose in both distaste and disgust.

"Why do you smell like gasoline?"

"I changed the oil on the Camaro." Dean justified. "It's a nice car. Almost as nice as the Impala. Don't worry baby, I will always love you. Anyway, if Max changed the oil, you know it'd go up in flames."

"You could give her the benefit of the doubt."

"That hasn't exactly worked in the past, Sam. Last time I gave Max the benefit of the doubt she got herself killed."

"She died for us,"

"I'm not letting that happen again. We did what Cas told us to do. We got the damn coin. Now what?"

"We wait," Sam shrugged, turning his concentration back to the passing cars but keeping his ears open to what his brother said.

"We've been waiting for a whole year, Sam. Nothing happened. God hasn't come down. Hell, I don't think he ever will. We're just sitting ducks here."

"He will come." The Impala swerved over the double yellow lines. A chorus of honking peeled through the midday sky as Dean regained his steady grip on the steering wheel and glared back at Castiel.

"Thanks for popping up, Cas. You're just in time for Sam's rant." Dean smirked presumptuously, glancing at the angel through the rear-view mirror.

"I sense sarcasm." Castiel replied, his eyes in wide speculation.

"Nice observation, Sherlock."

"This is no time to exploit the works of Arthur Conan Doyle. He was a great man, Dean."

"How do you know God's coming, Cas?" Sam interjected, twisting his body to look back at the man in the trench coat. "And why did Ash send the coin to Max and not us?"

"I have reason to believe that Ash, as you call him, has had the coin all along. Once he heard that God was coming he made a deal with Crowley exchanging his life for your sister's safety. But, Crowley wants the coin too. He'll be searching for it."

"How does the coin tie in to any of this, smarty pants?" Dean butt in, suddenly tired of listening.

"The coin," Castiel explained seriously. "determines life and death between two parties that are claimed by supernatural forces. Much like Cain and Abel,"

"Cain killed Abel though." Sam spoke, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you saying that Cain was 'claimed' by something that made him murder his brother?"

"Hold on," Dean put a free hand up. "what the hell are you talking about, Uncle Shelby?"

"In Genesis," Sam started. "Adam and Eve had two sons: Cain and Abel."

"And Cain snuffed his little brother?" Anyone could tell that Dean Winchester didn't like where this was going, so Castiel interrupted.

"Cain was 'claimed' by Phthonos, the god of jealousy. He had offered produce from his land to God and his brother, Abel, presented the firstborn of his flock. But God favored Abel's offering over Cain's. So, out of anger, Cain took his younger brother to a deserted place and killed him. Some say that Cain was the offspring of Grigori, a fallen angel, because no one could imagine how the son of Adam was capable of murder."

"So?" Dean snapped, parking the Impala in front of the 70s style motel that they had checked into the previous night. "How does the coin explain God coming down, Cas?"

"God is coming down for judgment, Dean!" Castiel exclaimed. "He will judge whoever possesses the coin. The only way to stop this is to end it like Cain and Abel."

"So, we have to kill—"

"No, not you and Sam, Dean," The angel sighed disdainfully. "You must kill."

"Me? I don't have mojo on me, Cas. I haven't been 'claimed' or whatever other creepy terms your whole angel garrison pulls out of your asses." Dean pushed open the door to the Impala, the old car groaning as the driver stepped out to his feet. Castiel and Sam followed suite, standing in the fresh air, the rain clouds dimming the light that had shone brightly moments ago.

"The day you were raised from hell, Dean, was the day I claimed you. It has to be you."

"Does he have to kill me?"

"Shut up, Sam." Dean barked, a storm already darkening his hazel green eyes. Cas stood stilted before the two Winchester's, despair in his emotionless expression.

"Not Sam, he has already been claimed by Azazel."

"Then who?" Sam asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he finally realized. "Max?"

"I'm not killing Max, Cas!"

"Then we have to keep Crowley from claiming her for the coin."

"How the hell are you we going to do that? Why'd Ash give it to Max, in the first place?" Dean burned with dread, his greatest nightmares emerging to the surface.

"I doubt he knew the true meaning." The angel said tonelessly as a fat raindrop fell against the windshield of the Impala. "You shouldn't have even come here. Now, demons from miles around will follow your every move. Stay put and don't contact Maxine."

Sam and Dean stood in the half-empty parking lot, staring at where the angel had once stood, a discerning silence falling over them. Without a single word, Dean grabbed the duffel's from the trunk, pushing past his younger brother to walk into the dingy motel.

"We have to talk about this, Dean." Sam ran into the dusty room, slamming the door just as Dean dropped the weapon-filled duffel bags on the ground.

"There's nothing to talk about, Sammy." Dean said, throwing his jacket over the back of the armchair.

"I told you that we shouldn't have let her go. I told you that we shouldn't have come to see her."

"Hey! We came for the damn coin. I didn't exactly want to come here for a family reunion, Sam."

"Then why did we come? It wasn't for the coin, Dean. Not really. You miss Max as much as I do. Don't think I don't know that." Dean grit his teeth, burning holes in Sam's head in his mind as he loudly sat at the small table with the laptop. "What are you doing? Dean?"

"I'm listening to the bug. You don't like it, you do something else." Sam sighed and turned to take a shower, maybe even catch a few hours of sleep afterwards.

Dean closed his eyes, his stomach churning as he overheard the eerie silence in the condo over the earphones. Of all the places that Sam could have hidden the bug, he had to attach it to the dog's collar.

_"Max," _Dean heard the door close followed by heavy footfalls._"Where's Max?" _There was a crinkling noise as Chester ran to the master bathroom. Chris knocked on the door. _"Babe?"_

_"Yeah?" _Max sniffed faintly, her voice heavy, as if she'd been crying.

_"Are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine." _Dean scoffed out loud in the motel room. He'd heard that one too many times.

_"Are you crying? What happened?"_

_"Chris, I'm fine, really. I just…I just remembered something."_

_"Max, let me in before I pick the lock."_ There was a hollow sound of the door unlocking and shuffling as Chester started moving._"Shh. It's okay." _A sickening feeling erupted in Dean's stomach as he listened to Chris comforting Max. It should have been him over there holding her and telling her that everything was going to be okay. As long as he didn't kill her, that is. But, it wasn't and that made hot tears start growing at the corners of his eyes.

_"I'm sorry,"_ Max coughed gently and Dean could almost see her wiping her wet face with her fingertips. _"How'd it go in the office?"_

_"It was short thankfully." _There was a long silence before Max began again.

_"I miss them."_

_"Who?"_

_"My brothers…I can't tell them how much I love them anymore." _

_"They know you love them."_

_"Dean doesn't. He won't ever know how much I love him. No matter how many times I used to tell him, I can't prove it."_

_"Trust me, he knows." _

And for once, Dean agreed with him.

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	3. Where's Chris?

Max's POV

I let out a quiet groan as I raised my disheveled head from the pillow. With my eyes half shut, I felt the covers next to me through the dark. Feeling no one and hearing no jangle of Chester's collar, I sat up with a heavy sigh, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I wasn't sure when I had gone to sleep but my face was heavy from tears. When I had turned on the room light, I spotted a scrap of paper on Chris' pillow. It read,

_Turn around. –C_

"Hello, Miss Winchester," I whirled around and Crowley caught my fist, which was only inches away from his face. "Now, now, Maxine, what happened to hellos?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" My words were filled with malignant disdain as I jerked my hand from his grip.

"I'm just here for a little chat,"

"If Dean knew you were here, he'd tear you apart."

"Oh, is that so?" Crowley speculated. "It's funny because last I checked, you and your older brother were not on speaking terms and you had a man in your bed."

"Yeah, Dean can be an asshole but he's still my brother. My loyalties lie with him."

"Your loyalties lie with the guy who has had your apartment bugged. But you knew that already. And you've been listening in on him too. I know you slipped your own little toy into Sam's pocket."

"There are some things Dean and I can't say to each other's faces."

"You know what you are, Miss Winchester? Or Miss Campbell, as it says on your driver's license. You are—"

"Adorable, amazing, awesome, badass, beautiful…I can go on forever, Chief." I smiled haughtily at Crowley's blank stare.

"You are too much of a kind-hearted person for your own good." My air of arrogance faded as I glared at the King of Hell who just smirked. "I'm sure your bearing heart will turn deadly cold when I tell you what I've done to your boy toy. Not in the least curious, I see. Well, I'll tell you anyway,"

"I will find a way to end your life." I growled behind clenched teeth, my body quivering slightly as a sinking feeling welled in my torso.

"Oh, Maxine," Crowley shook his head sympathetically, taking a step closer while I took a step back, the back of my knees hitting the mattress of the bed. "you've let too many men into that black hole you humans call a heart. But you know you can only truly love Dean and his moose."

"Where's Chris?"

"Don't worry. He's somewhere he's needed." Crowley clapped his hand in conclusion. "Well, without further ado, Miss Winchester, I'd like you to know that I've claimed you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, you perverted bastard?" I quickly slid to the middle of the room.

"No need for the nasty names. You want answers, you ask the angel." With that, I was standing thoroughly alone in the bedroom before I flung open the sliding door to balcony. The cold air pierced my skin like needles as I roared into the open sky.

"Cas! Cas, get your feathery ass down here."

"It's been a long time, Maxine." Castiel stood in one corner of the balcony, his features tense.

"What is going on, Cas? Am I part of some sick game you and Crowley are playing?" Cas angled his head to the side, concentrating with horrified blues eyes at my face.

"Crowley claimed you already?"

"Damn straight he did. And I am not going to be his little bitch."

"This is above you, Max."

"The hell it is, Cas! Angel or not, I will stab you in the face." He briskly walked towards me, grabbing my forearm.

"Come with me,"

Recovering from the bright burst of blinding light, I squinted to find myself standing in a shabby motel room. My brothers stood rigid at one end, guns unlocked and loaded.

"Damn it, I wanted answers not a free trip back to middle school." I scoffed.

"Crowley claimed her already." Castiel declared resentfully, walking to the middle of the room.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned, burying his face into his hands. A dewy eyed Sam caught me entirely off guard when he enveloped me in a bear hug.

"Somebody better talk before I start throwing punches." I threatened, feeling a wave of exhaustion, confusion and self-pity. No answer. "Dean!" I screamed, reaching out to yank him to face me.

"No!" Cas cried, but it was too late, I was thrown back against the opposite wall by the door.

"Max," The same happened to Dean when he ran to see if I was alright. Sam stood in the middle of the room, his jaw hung open in an unbelieving expression.

"What did you do?" He demanded to the angel.

"I didn't do anything. Dean and Max are two negative charges. They cannot be in close contact with each other."

"Oh, well, thanks for clearing that up now, Cas," Dean groaned sarcastically, struggling to free his wrists from the wallpaper, still suspended outlandishly. Castiel sighed, and, with a slight gesture of his hand, Dean dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Woah!" I exclaimed, while my face heated up as I kicked desperately at the wall. "What about me?"

"Only Crowley can bring you down," The angel informed, disappearing.

"Awesome," I rolled my eyes, muttering impatiently. "You two really give crappy motels a new meaning." I glanced distastefully at the stale pizza and moldy fast food wrappers that littered the counters and the floor below the trashcan.

"Where's Chris?" Sam asked gently, placing a chair under my feet so I wouldn't struggle to pull my body up for air. My eyes fluttered over to Dean, who cautiously stood at the far corner of the room.

"Just out of friendly curiosity, Sammy," I conveniently ignored his question. "but why haven't you been 'claimed'?" He licked his lips uncertainly, sitting in a free chair to look up at my face.

"I don't know," By the way he wouldn't meet my eyes, I knew he was lying. It didn't matter, I suppose. At least he was safe.

"What about Dean, then? What did Cas mean that we were both negative charges?" The bombarding of questions really stuck Dean on the edge but that didn't stop me.

"Max," Sam tried, putting a hand on his knee as he tried to explain.

"God's coming, Max," Dean said. That was the first time he had spoken directly to me since he told me to get lost a year ago. It took me a second to come to my sense.

"You're joking, right? Sam, come on. Tell me he's joking." I was almost too skeptical. "Do you know why he's coming?"

"We think it's for judgment."

"So, you're telling me that you kicked me out because God was coming to judge mankind?"

"Not mankind," My older brother spoke up. "Just us."

"'Us' as in, you and Sam or 'us' as in—"

"'Us' as in, all three of us, Max," The serious look in Dean's eyes sent a sickening fall in the pit of my stomach.

"And you and I being 'claimed' is going to help, how?" My brothers looked away. "Guys, whether you like it or not, I'm involved now. I'm a big girl. I can tie my own boots and everything. What's going on?"

"Max, Dean has to—"

"I have to kill you, Max." Dean stood ten feet away from me, our eyes locked. "That's the only way we can stop God killing everyone around us."

"That's not too bad," I smiled optimistically, trying to hide the quiver in my voice. "At least you're not bouncing balls around the motel, Jack!" Dean frowned.

"Monkee,"

"Don't," I said abruptly, the smile draining from my face. "you lost the right to call me that a long time ago, Dean. Where's Bobby?"

"Bobby's dead, Max," Sam got to his feet, taking a few steps back. I think I wanted to die a little more when my little brother opened his mouth. It was already starting. Everything that we had ever held dear was just falling into a disturbing heap at our feet. I knew I should check out sooner than later before things start escalating.

"Oh, Miss Winchester, already got yourself in a rut, I see," Crowley appeared at the doorway, Castiel right behind him.

"You kinda left this part out," I sneered, my feet landing on the chair with a flick of his wrist. Taking the hand that Sam held out, I jumped to the floor.

"Are you caught up now?"The disgusting revelry in the demon's words made me grimace.

"Can we just finish this? Here and now?"

"No," The angel set forth in a low-pitched, monotonous voice. "God must be present for the coin to take on it's full power."

"Coin?" I piped up, throughly dumbfounded. "What does the coin have to do with anything?" My questioning gaze turned back to Sam and Dean. "More secrets? Awesome. Ow, what the hell?" All eyes turned to Dean's amulet around my neck. It burned against my t-shirt and just scarred my skin before I held it out by the string.

"Oh, would you look at that," Crowley chuckled. "God's here."

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	4. Coin of the Bull Man

**Oh, my gosh! Last night's episode has to be the greatest! Seriously, one of my favorites!**

* * *

General POV

A strong gust of wind blew erratically as the motel door creaked open. The lights flickered and the ground shook slightly before a sudden pause. All eyes fell upon the emotionless figure standing at the foyer, his dark eyes shifting to the five faces that watched him earnestly.

"Chris?" Max stepped forward, taking his face between her trembling hands, trying to find any hint of humanity in his expression.

"Do not fret," A hollow voice came out from Chris' mouth, the world seemed to quiver when God spoke. "the man you have adulterated yourself with is still alive. He is my vessel." Max growled through her tears, stumbling back into Crowley's shadow.

"What do you want with us?" Sam demanded, distraught at how his sister fell apart into silent sobs. God glanced at Dean, who stood by himself on one side of the room, then to the angel, ignoring Sam's question.

"Well done, Castiel, my son. My good and faithful servant."

"You planned this Cas?" Max barked while lunging at the angel, but caught coolly by Crowley who had a bored visage.

"This was already written, Maxine," Cas pleaded, refusing to meet her hate-filled glare, tightly gripping the strings attached to the brass amulet, which continued to burn red hot. "Your life is a book. It's words are inspired by God and written by the prophet."

"Which prophet, huh, Cas?" Dean snarled. "Judas?"

"So I have to die?" Max's breath hitched when she looked at Chris again.

"My daughter," God stepped forward reaching out to take her hand.

"You're God...you can stop all this without raising a finger."

"Didn't you always tell yourself," God began again. His voice—Chris' voice—working to mend the broken seams that held Max's heart together. "that you would die like your mother in order to keep your brothers safe." She nodded, her chest rising and falling heavily and a burning lump stinging her throat. "Castiel, where is the coin of the Bull-man?" The light bulbs twinkled again and an icy breeze poured in through the open door as Sam handed Cas the double-headed coin.

"Give me the coin," Crowley put his own hand out to Cas with an expectant raise of his eyebrows.

"Give it to him, my son," God urged, despite the angel's reluctant growl. "The coin will go first to the wearer of the amulet of the Bull-man." All three Winchester's shared horrified looks. A shadow of guilt shaded Dean's face and his whole body tensed when he spotted the King of Hell rubbing the piece of metal victoriously between his fingers.

"You son of a bitch," The oldest Winchester breathed out, turning to the wall and squeezing his eyes shut as if he was trying to rid the present scene just to wake up from this dream. Dean didn't wake up though. Not yet.

"Flip the coin," Cas grumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Don't you dare do it, Crowley!" Dean bellowed, whipping around with eyes that shot daggers at the demon.

"This is a hostage situation, you arrogant little thug." Crowley lashed out. "I own your sister, do you understand me?"

"Flip the damn coin," Max quietly ordered, looking from the faces of Crowley to her older brother who coiled his arm back and put a large hole in the wall. "Get this over with!"

"My daughter-"

"Stop calling me your daughter! I don't give a smooth fart if you're God. I'm not your daughter and you're not my father. And I am _not_ afraid to die!"

"There was once a time," God lowered his voice to a tone almost of regret and woe. "when you once called me your father. When you used to pray to me and ask me to take care of your brothers and your earthly father."

"Well," She straightened herself out, keeping Sam's face in the corner of her eye. "I'm taking care of my family now. I don't need your help."

"Maxine," Cas said as a warning, edging between God and the Winchester. "Do not provoke the LORD's anger."

"Tails," Crowley pointed down at the coin which showed the cuneiform of the Bull-man. "Your turn angel. Start showing some emotions. People might mistake you for that Kristen Stewart girl."

"Wait, what does tails mean?" Sam jutted forward, grabbing Max's arm and pulling her behind him.

"That means that your sister is in the clear," Crowley smirked wickedly, but showed enough care for Max to know that he was on her side. "for now."

Sam quickly took his sister's face in his large hands, brushing away her tears and kissing her forehead as he embraced her. Dean watched from the end of the room, a hint of jealousy fleeting behind his green irises. At that moment he didn't care if the coin came out on it's head. Sam and Max were safe and that's what he'd lived his life making sure of. No matter how much his conscious resented the responsibility John Winchester had placed on him at such a tender age, Dean didn't have to be told to 'take care of Max and Sam' to know what to do.

"Tails," Cas imparted with a slightly alleviated sigh but glancing worriedly at God.

"This is only the first trial. Another tribunal will be set up at the next new moon." God said, dismissing himself without hesitation—taking his vessel with him.

A tense air fell over the five bodies in the motel room. Castiel and Crowley stood near the door, watching with somber eyes as Sam whispered comforting words to Max. Dean rubbed his face, secretly surprised that the dramatics were over for the moment.

"Maxine," The angel reached out for her but Sam whisked her away in his arms.

"Get out of here, Cas." The youngest hunter said gently but forcefully. "I think you've done enough."

"You too, chuckles." Dean now barked at Crowley. Just like that, the two supernatural beings disappeared out of sight and out of mind.

"Everything's starting to make sense now," Max mumbled into her little brother's chest, tightening her arms around his waist. "Crowley bringing me back from hell...always looking for Cas. They've been planning this for years." A sound came out from her mouth, sounding more like a whimper than the humorless chuckle that she meant for.

"Nothing's going to get you, Mackie, not while we're still around." Max looked up at her little Sammy with an appreciative smile but bitterness followed her words.

"You know, that's supposed to be my line." She stepped out of his arms, turning her head to catch Dean's painful gaze. "What now? Chris is God's meat-suit. I'm more or less up for grabs. Hey, how far are we from my condo?" Max referred to her lack of proper clothing. She stood in what she had changed the oil to the Camaro with that morning, her feet clad in black socks.

"Not far," Sam chuckled, grabbing the keys to the Impala and beginning to pull on his coat.

"Here," Dean threw his sister his jacket, watching her slip into the large sleeves without a word of thanks or even any emotion, for that matter.

"Awesome," Max sarcastically muttered as she stuck her head out into the slight drizzle. "Damn it, now my socks are going to get wet." Sam picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back, and ran through the rain to the Impala.

After his sister was comfortably settled in the front seat, Sam slid behind the wheel, noting that Dean watched from the open motel door with a look like a lost puppy on his face. With a loud grouse, the engine flipped over and Sam ran his fingers in his long hair to shake off the tiny water droplets.

"You want to talk about it or something?" He suggested, spying Max pull her feet up onto the seat and hug her knees.

"Not particularly,"

"Why Chris, Max?" Sam finally found the courage to ask. She took a deep breath, leaning against the window as they cruised down the sodden roadways of Boston. "You could have had some civvie who didn't know what was in the dark. Why didn't you?"

"Why would I want that, Sammy? Why would I want some ignorant little prick who doesn't know a revolver from a pistol? Hunting is the only thing we've ever known. We don't want to live with it but at the same time, we can't live without. That's why, Sam. Look, it doesn't matter. I'm here now and I'm in this again and I'm not going to leave anytime soon. I'm going out with my boots on no matter what."

"You sound like Bobby," Sam smiled, his dimples caving into his face slightly, but Max frowned.

"Is he really gone?" Her brother nodded, finding an open spot in the heavily crowded parking lot. Max leaned over and peeled off her socks, shoving them into her back pocket as she stepped barefooted into the damp asphalt. Sam quickened his pace to catch up with her. Max, as he had known, had always been brisk and to the point. That's what made her so different from him. Sam knew that he always had to sugarcoat things—always had to make things more tolerable. Inside he knew that no matter how smoothly he managed to explain something supernatural to others it'd always result in the same incredulous look.

Max picked the lock to her condo and held the door open for her brother. Sam vigilantly stuck his head in first before setting in. It was plain, like he had told Dean…wooden flooring and off-white French doors. There were no pictures on the wall or flowers on the kitchenette counter. Books were lined up in waist-high piles against the walls around the light blue couch, which was the only furniture in the main room.

"What's with the background music?" Sam looked around, trying to find the source of the psychedelic melody.

"Music helps Chris sleep." Max said from the kitchen, grabbing two beers from out of the fridge and handing one to Sam. "It keeps me up for most of the night but at least he doesn't have bad dreams."

"You stay awake so he can sleep?" He posed skeptically, resenting Chris for making Max sacrifice something that was vital to the human body.

"It's called love, Sam," She just replied softly. "I would do it for you too. Hey, why don't you guys crash here instead of wasting money that you could use for ammo?"

"You want us to stay with you?"

"That _is_ what I just said, Sam. Is there a problem?"

"No. It's just that you and Dean—"

"What about me and Dean?"

"You know, Max, the whole flying against the wall thing."

"We'll be fine, Alfalfa."

"You want me to get him now?"

"Yeah," She widened her eyes sarcastically. "that'd be great."

Once Sam had gone, Max peeled off her t-shirt and walked into the bedroom. From the corner of her eyes she perceived a standing figure near the window. Looking around and realizing that she was nowhere near any sort of weapon, she turned to face the masculine body.

"Who're you?"

"You named me after you're family." The man said, cocking his head to the side so his brown eyes met hers. "I'm Chester."

"You're a skinwalker?" Chester nodded and smiled, taking a step toward Max, who stood at the other end of the room.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Max. The moment I saw you I loved you." He stopped a foot away from her, finding that she didn't curl back in fright. She knew what he could do to her. One bite was all it would take. "Has that thought occurred to you?"

"What are you talking about?" Max questioned defiantly.

"Oh, I know it has," Chester sneered. "you've thought about shoving a piece of silver into me haven't you?"

"Ches, I'm a hunter. It's instinct. You know that."

"Well, my instinct would be to bite you." Her expression didn't change, even as Chester took a final step towards her, running his hand along her bare arm and chuckled. "Even the great Lady Winchester can't take a life. The end is coming, Max. It's coming soon. I know. And Chris isn't going to make it. I never liked him, you know. He was always shoving me away, always undermining my abilities. But you never did that. You always told me that you loved me." Max had tears streaming down her face by now and reached up closer to his face.

"Life's a bitch, pudding," She whispered with a smile before pulling the trigger. Chester back away a few steps, clutching his blood stained stomach and breathing heavily.

"You're time's coming, Maxine Winchester." He moaned in agony, falling into fetal position on the ground, his blood spilling out onto the floor. With a shaking hand, Max pressed two fingers against his wrist, feeling his pulse but feeling nothing.

"Awesome," She groaned, trying to find some way to dispose of the body. Fishing out her phone she dialed Sam's number.

"Max, we're coming—"

"Uhm, Sam, I need your help."

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	5. Your End of the Story

**I really hate to ask but I'd appreciate if you leave me a review with ideas or criticism or anything. Hope you enjoy the chapter! Another HUGE thanks to sweetkiwi604 and xoloveJBox. **

* * *

Max let out a quiet groan as she raised her disheveled head from the pillow. With her eyes half shut, she reached over and felt the covers beside her through the dark. Feeling no one, and hearing no jangle of Chester's collar, she sat up with a heavy sigh, rubbing her weary eyes. She wasn't quite certain when she had fallen asleep but her face was stiff from dried tears. Groaning as she got up to switch on the light, her peripherals caught a scrap of paper on Chris' pillow beside her own. It read,

_Turn around. -C_

"Hello, Miss Winchester," Max whirled around just as Crowley caught her fist, which was only inches away from his face. "Now, now, Maxine, what happened to hellos?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her words were drenched in anger and intolerance as she rudely jerked her hand from his grip.

"I'm just here for a little chat,"

"If Dean knew you were here, he'd tear you apart."

"Oh, is that so?" Crowley speculated. "It's funny because last I checked, you and your older brother were not on speaking terms and you had a man in your bed."

"Yeah, Dean can be an asshole but he's still my brother. My loyalties lie with him."

"Your loyalties lie with the guy who has had your apartment bugged. But you knew that already. And you've been listening in on him too. I know you slipped your own little toy into Sam's pocket."

"There are some things Dean and I can't say to each other's faces."

"Well, I suppose it's only right to say that you have quite a large job ahead of you."

"What are you talking about?" Max's face was blank, yet showed enough curiosity for Crowley to continue.

"To make things brief enough for you simple-minded humans to understand: I've claimed you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, you perverted bastard?" She quickly slid to the middle of the room.

"No need for the nasty names." Crowley shrugged harmlessly. "I just wanted to let you know that you have no choice but to kill Dean. It's your end of the story."

Max Winchester jolted up in her sheets, wincing as the afternoon sun poured in through the window and landed on her eyes. The front of her shirt was tainted with dry, crusty blood and her hair was slightly damp with sweat. Her ears sharpened, trying to catch any slight movements coming from the spacious condo but she didn't hear anything.

"Sam?" She called, stumbling through the hallway and into the main room. Her brother was stretched out across the full length of the long couch, his arms tucked under his head to act as a pillow. "Hey, Hercules," Max whispered with a soft smile, shaking his shoulder to no avail. Sam snuggled deeper into the pillows, not likely to wake up anytime soon. And he deserved it. He and Dean had been extra careful to bury Chester's body without being eyeballed by the security cameras.

_Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law. Lawman has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home—_

Max shuffled around the room, looking under open magazines and between the pillows for her phone. It was wedged between Sam's arm and the backrest of the couch.

"Dean? Where are you?"

"Come outside," Dean said from the other end of the line. Max walked to the window, trying to spot her brother in the parking lot down below.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"What is with you and always wanting answers? Just come outside." She stared at the phone screen, scoffing when the call had been disconnected.

"Awesome," She rolled her eyes as she groggily strained to stoop over and slid into her shoes and pull on her jacket.

"Took you long enough," Dean met her at the bottom on the stairs, the small smile on his face fading when he remembered to step back and put at least ten feet between them.

"Whatever you want, it better be worth it," Max stressed facing him, obviously not appreciative of being forced to get ready in such a short notice.

"When Bobby died," Dean began. "When Bobby died, the salvage yard went down with him but he saved you something." He then motioned to the lustrous 1968 Dodge Charger that was parked beside the Impala.

Max's jaw dropped as she nostalgically ran her hand over the long hood, sticking her head inside of the smoky smelling car and grinning from ear to ear. Dean watched his little sister circle the car. Max's face was brilliantly illuminated and her sparkling eyes brightened her once downcast expression.

"I don't know what to say." She finally whimpered standing beside the driver's door, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Awesome."

"This would be a good time for you to tell me how much you love me but…" Dean's words absently drew out, his gaze set firmly on her. "Monkee, if I could take this all away, you know I would do anything." She smiled sadly, putting a hand up to stop him.

"No chick flicks, bro. I've just got used to all the testosterone."

"I replaced the rubber line." He pointed to the frame, his voice rising optimistically. "You know the one that goes from the frame to the rear axle-"

"To the splitter on the axle." Max nodded, chuckling gently. "Yeah, I know. You taught me that. Do you have the keys to my baby?" Dean smirked, rummaging through his coat pocket and tossing a key bunch to her. Max looked down at the sapphire wedding band that hung on the swiveled key ring in the palm of her hand. "I thought you'd trade this in for ammo."

"I forged Cas' signature on the annulment papers."

"I know," She gripped the key chain looking up knowingly. "There was too much guilt in your eyes that day, Dean."

"Where're you going?" Dean nearly rushed forward when Max slid into the driver's seat of the Charger.

"Just for a ride," She sighed pleasantly, running her hands lovingly along the cold steering wheel. "I may go to the store and get something to eat."

"Can you get—"

"I'll get you some pie." With a deep breath, Max slid the key into the ignition, smiling when a soft purr vibrated off of the old engine. "My baby sounds good. New Kids on the Block better watch their lip syncing ass." She revved the Charger excitedly a few times before speeding out of the parking lot and into the crowded streets.

Dean watched the car fade away in the distance with a smile on his face.

Once Max lost sight of the tall condominium and her brother, tears started streaming down her face. Her breathing hitched into ugly sobs when she leaned her elbow against the window and rubbed her eyebrows to shade her face from the world around her.

…_you have no choice but to kill Dean. It's your end of the story._

*****Your End of the Story*****

Max stared up at the flames of yellow and red that covered the lofty branches of the oak trees. The sun shone brightly behind her, despite the dreary Boston weather.

…_you have no choice ..._

She grit her teeth, whimpering hopelessly as her head hung in utter confusion. Max knew that whatever bastion she had once put her trust in was now wasting away. She was like a scrap of flotsam—worn out by the coarse air of the world and floating in the endless horizon. Nothing could be consummated. Nothing was firmly established in the citadel of human concord. Her mental wounds had stopped healing long ago and everywhere she turned pusillanimous eyes met hers.

Now, as she stood leaning against the front of the Charger with her hands shoved deep into her pockets, Max saw a tall figure emerge from the dense thicket of trees. He continued forward at a constant speed, making a straight line for the muscle car at the edge of the opposite tree line.

"Why did you leave, Maxine?"

"Why didn't you look for me?" She replied with equal inquiry, shifting her weight to one leg. The angel lowered his blue eyes, stopping a few feet away from her.

"I didn't want you to be a part of this."

"It's a bit too late for that, isn't it Cas?" Max snapped firmly. "I'm in this despite your half-assed efforts. But you," She seethed, her voice decidedly calm. "you knew. You knew about this all along and you didn't give two cents to stop it. We're not your playthings, Castiel. Tell your father that. If he wants a wild card, I'll give him a wild card. But I'd rather be Crowley's bitch then watch you put my family in the crossfire between heaven and hell."

"You don't know the depth of the hole you're standing in, Max." Cas prompted, a flicker of overwrought emotion wracking his wooden exterior.

"If that's your way of apologizing-"

"I didn't come here to apologize to you."

"Then please enlighten me, feathers," Max shrieked sarcastically. "for what point and purpose are you being such a pain in the ass?"

"I want you to go somewhere that no one will find you." Castiel begged. "I'll find someone else in your place."

"I'm not going to run away from my problems, Cas. If you want to stoop that low then suit yourself."

"You can't always get what you want, Maxine Winchester. God doesn't want you to die. It is a sacrifice He is willing to make to save your family."

"Are you listening to the Stones, Cas, or are you really stoned?" She cried, throwing her arms up in defeat.

"Why don't you want to listen, Maxine? Why do you always want answers?"

"Because nobody listens to me, Cas!"

"Maybe you should give them something to listen to and stop wallowing in your own misery and grudging bitterness." With a hard glare, Max said,

"I think you should go." Castiel reached into the pocket of his trench coat gingerly, pulling out the amulet of the Bull-man.

"The Bull-man," He sighed, starting at the brass figure head in his palm before squinting painfully at the girl. "helps people fight the evil and chaos that destroys the world from within." He slid the trinket over Max's head, lingering a moment beside her entirely human body then stepped back.

"I'm not going to kill my own brother for this God-forsaken grunge."

"What are you talking about?" He angled his head to the side.

"Don't pretend like you don't know, blue eyes. Crowley, king of dickwads, said that I have no choice but to kill Dean. He said it as my 'end of the story.'" Max made mocking air quotes, leaning in to further her resentment. The angel stood in silence and shock, his chest swelling in dreaded anticipation.

"I'll make things right, Max."

"Have fun with that, Cas. And I see you're still wearing our wedding ring." She gestured to his left hand. "You know you can take it off, right?"

Castiel glanced down at his hand then back up at Max. "It just felt right to keep it on."

A sudden gust of icy wind blew furiously against Max's face, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut to avoid the tiny particles of dust. When she opened her eyes, she stood alone in the tree surrounded field staring up at the swift sunset.

"Awesome," She muttered as she spied the Impala speeding over the dried grass toward her.

"Where the hell have you been, Max?" Dean boomed, slamming the car door shut. "Do you have any idea how many times I called you?"

"Humor me." Dean's face suddenly softened as he asked,

"Is this about Chris?"

"No," Max replied innocuously. "Cas just came by to give this back." She held up the amulet.

"Take it off. All it does is brand you."

"It's okay, Dee." She reassured. "I like all the attention. Where's Hercules?"

"He's trying to find a way to get us out of this."

"In the wide scheme of things, I'm still going to kick the bucket."

"Don't say that—"

"Oh, come on," Max rung her wrists. "Face it, Dean. We're all dead men."

"We'll find a way to fix this, Max." He insisted, running his hands through his hair. "I won't let you die. I never wanted you to ever die for me."

"I know that you would never let me be in a life and death situation, Dean. But if you don't kill me someone else will."

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	6. All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back

**Hope everyone's having a happy holiday and hope you'll have a happy new year! **

* * *

Max entered her dark condo that night. The sliding door leading to the balcony stood half open, and a cool, humid breeze flew into the room. She flicked the switch by the front door on as she walked into the bright living room. Just as she was about to call out for Sam, she caught sight of a scrap of paper from her younger brother. He had quickly scrawled out a note saying that he had gone out to grab some food.

"He better get thin mints," Max muttered under her breath, looking over her shoulder to see if Dean had finally managed to lag himself upstairs. He hadn't. She shook her head, quietly chuckling to herself.

"My daughter,"

Max whipped around to see Chris standing at the doorway, sparking droplets of water shimmering in his dark hair.

"What do _you_ want?" She sneered.

"I want to ask you a question." God sauntered forward. Max held her own self back from reaching out to the body of the man she loved.

"It better be worth my time." She loudly slammed the balcony door shut and bolted the lock.

"What time, Maxine Winchester? You have all of eternity in your hands."

"Well," Max shrugged, continuing logically while scratching the back of her neck. "the way I have it figured, I'm going to be planted six feet under no matter what. And when I do kick the bucket, I'm going straight down to hell."

"Do you truly believe that? Why is it that you think so little of yourself? Why do you belittle yourself to the point of misery?"

"I think you should stop making waves and start asking real questions."

"Fine," He straightened out. "my question is simple enough: when the times comes for you to choose between this man and your brothers, where will your loyalties lie?"

Max's jaw hung slightly open in irritated surprise.

"Why are you separating the two? It's us and them. It's us against you." She waved her hands about to seal her point. "This isn't an internal conflict. You can't make me pick a side."

"Well, that's the whole point of free will, isn't it?" God paced from wall to wall slowly, his hands clasped against his lower back.

Max lowered her bluish green eyes—Mary's eyes—and self-consciously ran her fingertips over her throbbing throat.

"My loyalties will always be with my brothers. When push comes to shove, Dean and Sam will always be the ones that I pull up from the side of a cliff. Forget Chris!" She threw up her arms, almost ridding herself of him entirely. "I have cried a thousand rivers. And I am not afraid to drown."

A single tear rolled down Chris' face.

"He can hear you, you know."

"Son of a…" Max dragged her trembling hands over her face and entangled her fingers in her hair. "Chris, I am so sorry."

"No you're not, Max." The glimmer of humanity returned to his chocolate brown eyes. "That's the thing about you Winchester's: your mouths are faster than your common sense of integrity and your stomachs are bigger than your hearts."

"You can't blame me for picking sides, Chris!" Max pleaded for him to understand. But above all, she was begging him to keep that ever lingering feeling of guilt from her.

"I don't blame you." He replied quietly. "I don't blame you because you were never mine to begin with."

Just like that, the cold emptiness engulfed his eyes and God stood in the center of the room again.

"Keep him safe or so help me, I'll—"

"You'll what, Miss Winchester? You'll kill me? I am God. I can't be killed. No matter what road you take to avoid your end or the death of this man, you two will still die."

"Keep him safe." Max repeated with an icy glare. She turned to stare out of the balcony into the starless night. "The ends always justify the means, Good Counselor. I'm not trying to weasel my way out of a wooden box. Because death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back."

There was a loud steady clap from the door. Dean was leaning against the doorframe with Sam towering behind him with a large brown paper bag in his arm.

"Nice speech," The oldest Winchester complimented; a cheeky grin on his face. Max, on the other hand, rapidly scanned the room for any sign of Chris' eyes. There was no one.

"Did you buy Oreos?" She combed through the grocery bags once her brothers had hauled it onto the breakfast counter.

"Oreos go straight to your ass, little sister." Dean helpfully put in, opening various cabinets.

"Whatever." Max scoffed, tossing three circles of thin mints in her mouth. "I'm not training for the Olympics."

"Oh-kay," Sam whistled dismissively, unpacking the white boxes filled with Chinese food on to the counter.

"By the way," Dean threw his sister a fork as she opened a box of fried rice, then settled himself on the couch with his legs stretched out so there would be no room for Sam. "a guy that was with dad in the Corps called and thinks he's got a vengeful spirit down at Green River County Detention Center. Max, are you still with me?"

Sam elbowed his sister, drawing her attention from the door back to Dean.

"What?" She hissed.  
"We got a vengeful spirit in Kentucky." Dean repeated louder.

"Yeah, yeah, sounds good." She widened her eyes comically, loosening the fried rice with her fork. "When are we heading out?"

"Right now." Her brother grinned.

*Arkansas Museum of Anthropology*

"I think this is the stupidest thing you two have ever had to pull off." Max shouted from the other end of the phone which was pressed against Dean's ear as Sam picked the lock to the museum.

"Yeah, yeah, you're going to kill us…foot up our ass, right. Good bye." He hung up and followed his younger brother with a flashlight and a list of priceless artifacts that were stored in the museum.

"I hate this plan, Dean." Sam whispered, shining the beam of light from his own torch around the dark building.

"Yeah, I got that the first ten times I heard it."

The two Winchester boys quickly made their way past the empty museum reception desk, stepping through the motion sensor that was set in the wall. Soon, they were opening the glass cases that held the Mesopotamian trinkets and jewelry when they heard a distant door closing. Motioning to Sam, Dean began stalking back just to run into various cops with guns held at ready.

"Get down on your knees! Hands behind your head!" They ordered, their guns still aimed at the two boys who did as they were told. Sam angrily kept quiet as the police officer handcuffed him.

*Green River County Detention Center*

Sam and Dean grimly exited the bus that had stopped in front of a large stone building surrounded with barbed wire. They had their hands and feet shackled as they slowly were led into the facilities. The inmates stared at them going by, often rattling the fence or shouting taunts about sleeping with the newbies mother. But that didn't bother the Winchester's.

"Don't worry, Sam," Dean glanced over his shoulder with a smirked framed over his grit teeth. "I promise I won't trade you for smokes."

"Yeah, but Max might." Sam nodded to their sister standing in brown dress pants and a brown leather bomber jacket. Her arms were tightly crossed and a wide grin was on her face when she caught sight of her brothers approaching her.

"You boys are going to make a hell of a fashion statement in orange." She harassed generally, leaning all her weight on one leg as she passed for a prison warden.

"Can I please shoot her?" Dean scowled as he huffed past his sister and into the building.

"Go ahead. We're already in jail." His brother hissed under his breath.

*****All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back *****

"How'd she get the gig?" Dean asked, eyeing his sister standing menacingly at the front of the cafeteria. Sam picked at his army noodles covered in ketchup with his fork. "You know, this chicken isn't that bad."

"Assuming it is chicken." Sam pushed his metal food tray away in disgust. "Max has got a loaded background: M.I.T., Marines...I'm sure she didn't break a sweat to get in in such short notice. Alright, let's go back over this, Dean. Spirit suspect number one is Mark Moody."

"Yeah, psycho killer extraordinaire: Satanism, ritual murder. He died in jail."

"You sure it's him?"

"Pretty sure."

"Considering our circumstances I'm going to need a little bit better than 'pretty sure'." Sam rolled his eyes, watching his brother chew on the bland food.

"Really pretty sure. Moody died of a heart attack which was exactly what all the victims in here died of. He died in the old cell block which was closed right after he croaked about thirty years ago. They just opened that back up which is when the killing started."

"So you think the spirit was released somehow?"

Dean nodded.

"But what if he was already cremated?" Sam droned on in a whisper so that no one else would hear.

"I'm guessing there's something in the old block that belongs to him that's keeping him around. Whatever it is, we've got to find it. You eat the rest." Dean threw down his utensils and clapped his hands for any crumbs as he began to get up. "I'm done."

Sam began to follow when a grubby looking man, picking his teeth with his pinky finger, slammed against his shoulder.

"Sorry, I—" Sam began politely.

"Watch where you're going." The gray haired man ordered.

"Yeah, sure."

Max shook her head unbelievingly at the way Sam avoided conflict. She would have been over there in a second to whoop the pony-tailed man's ass if Dean hadn't come to the rescue, getting into the man's face.

"He said he was sorry."

"You talking to me?"

Dean just looked at him with a hard, emotionless glare.

"Are you talking to me?!"

"Great," Dean scoffed. "another guy who's seen _Taxi Driver_ one too many times. Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me, let it go."

_Yeah, let it go, tubby_, Max thought.

The man slowly backed away, every muscle in his body tense and agitated.

"Dean, come on," Sam begged, worriedly furrowing his eyebrows even if Dean was grinning.

"See that's how you got to talk to these guys." He clicked his tongue. "Instant respect."

"You were saying," The youngest Winchester's eye were glued to a burly man, covered in tattoos that walked forward at the order of Ponytail.

"Oh, great." Dean groaned as Ponytail put his dukes up and clocked him one in the jaw. Without a moments respite, Dean had Ponytail's arm locked behind his back. "We can end this right now. No harm, no foul."

Sam glanced over at his sister, his eyes begging for her to stop the fight that continued with a kick to the groin and a knee to the face. Max just leaned against the wall, sending a safe nod in his direction when a loud bark rang out.

"That's enough! On your feet Lucas." A dark haired man walked forward, looking down at Ponytail rolling on the floor in pain. He pulled out the club from his holster and pushed it up under Dean's chin. "What's your name?"

"Winchester."

"Well, Winchester, not a good start." He said intimidatingly, removing the club with a rough gesture. "Solitary. You too, Lucas."

"We having fun yet, huh?" Dean chuckled as he was led away, raising his chin knowingly at Max as he walked by.

*****All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back*****

Max watched quietly from her own corner as Dean and Sam waited in line for their meals in the canteen the next day. She never had a chance to talk to either of them alone but they had left her a brief on the back of a napkin. Lucas had been killed by the spirit the night he and Dean were in solitary and Sam had gathered information from an old resident of the cell block that had housed Moody. Other than that, she was in the dark…as usual. Her eyes were stuck on her older brother as he made his way to man covered in tattoos, Tiny. Sam was standing a few feet away from her by the kitchen and just as she was about to walk over to him Tiny punched Dean across the face. Dean managed to recover quickly and threw his own left jabs and head butts but Tiny didn't move an inch. Three officers ran to stop the fight as Sam slipped into the kitchens.

"Give me a hand,"

Max caught up with him, helping her brother remove the air vent from the wall.

"What are you two doing?"

"Trust me on this one, Max." Sam motioned her to go through the vents first and followed close behind.

"The old cell block?" She looked around, jumping down from the vents.

"Mark Moody didn't die of a heart attack." Sam said, leading the way into the newly built block. "He was killed by an officer bashing his brains out. There may still be blood in his old cell that's keeping him here."

He stopped at a closed door, opening it wide enough so that he could peer inside to make sure it was safe before nodding to let Max enter as well. The small stoned room was musty. Dirty pillows were thrown recklessly about the floor near the rusted army bunk. Max tossed aside the mattress to see a dried blood stain on the center of the cloth. Sam pulled out a small salt shaker and a bit of gasoline and poured it out onto the mattress.

"Bombs away," Max lit a small match and threw it down to catch the flammable liquid. "Think it's over?"

"Yeah,"

*****All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back*****

"So you're saying it's not Moody?" Sam groaned when Dean had told him about his latest solitary confinement happenings like some kind of nut as they walked around the perimeter of the recreation yard.

"Not unless he liked going around dressed like a nurse. Poor Tiny, man. Poor giant Tiny. That bitch."

"Wait, so this is some ghost of a nurse that used to work here or something?"

"I don't know, man. I guess."

"You know what, Dean, at this point 'I don't know, I guess' isn't really working for me. See, I told Max that we were done. I called Deacon and told him that we were done. It's happening. We're getting out tonight."

"I guess you better tell my dear sweet baby sister to do some more research then."

"She's not going to thank you, Dean."

"Of course, she is." He smiled optimistically.

*****All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back*****

"Nurse Glockner," Max whispered through the steel fence post to Sam. "I heard was a nasty old bitch who worked here in the 70s. There are these stories, I don't even know if it's true, but guys used to go up to the infirmary with a cold and would come out in body bags. Young guys, old guys just keel over from a heart attack. Story's out that Glockner had it out for cons so she did this whole Charles Bronson thing with a hypothermic needle."

"What happened to Glockner?" Dean asked from a few feet away.

"I dunno," Max shrugged. "probably killed in a prison riot that destroyed the old cell block."

"Thanks, Max. How're you holding up?" Sam asked softly.

"Bum-fucking-tastic, thanks for asking." She scoffed sarcastically. "This friggen jackets makes me want to shoot myself." She pulled at the itchy collar and adjusted the heavy belt that pulled at her pants.

"Have you talked to Deacon yet?" Dean leaned against the risers. Max shook her head.

"Oh, by the way, the guard that was killed first wasn't exactly squeaky clean. Maybe Glockner goes after people who break the law."

"Yeah," Her older brother spoke up. "I heard the same thing in the yard."

"Dean," Max began. "doesn't it bother you how easily you seem to fit in here?"

"No, not really."

"We still need more info on Glockner," Sam came back to the point at hand. "Maybe like where she's buried and we need it in five hours."

"Picky, picky. I'm working on it." Max winced uncomfortably, pulling at her collar again. "In the meantime, I'll see you two someplace else."

"Where she's buried and in five hours, Max. We got to see this thing through but we are leaving tonight." Sam reminded as she began for the building.

"Anything else, my stupid-ass vigilantes?"

"Yeah, and I'll have a cheeseburger. Extra onions." Dean called out, chuckling when she flicked him off.

"What if she can't find it, Dean?"

"When have you ever doubted Max before?"

"I'm not—I'm not doubting her. If she can't find where Glockner's buried then we're still getting out of here. Just because Deacon saved dad's life doesn't mean we owe him our lives."

"Hey," Dean snapped. "We always pay our debts. Do you just want us to leave and let these people die?"

"Well, we're not going to give him our lives to gank this thing. This was your stupid plan and Max and I went along with it. We're sticking to the plan, Dean. We're leaving tonight."

"Fine, you leave and I'm going to stay." Dean began walking behind the risers.

"Hey, don't turn away from me!" Sam caught him by the shoulder.

"Screw you," Dean angrily threw behind his back, shoving his brother away. Several officers came running before a fight broke out. The dark-haired man pushed his club against Dean's neck.

"Alright, hard case, I see the usual methods aren't going to work with you. You too, sweetheart." He said to Sam who had an officer holding his arms behind his back. He led them into the empty kitchen, Max following close behind.

"Take off," He said to the guard who had also followed. "I want to handle this alone."

Once the guard was gone, Dean sighed.

"Deacon, you are beating the holy hell out of me, man."

"Sorry Dean, I thought I was going easy on you," Deacon smiled, roughly patting the side of Dean's face then turning back to look at Max. "And if it isn't Moonlighting Max."

"Master Chief," Max nodded. Her brothers noticed her entire demeanor turn rigid and uniform.

"You look pretty good without dirt on your face, honey."

"Maybe you should look harder, Master Chief," Max smirked. "I rubbed it all in." With a deep laugh Deacon embraced her.

"So," He stepped away, speaking mostly to her brothers. "is it over?"

"No," Sam sighed. "turns out it wasn't Moody."

"Then who?" Deacon questioned, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion.

"We think it's some nurse that used to work here." Sam spoke up, shrugging down when Max reached up to fix his jacket collar which was sticking up at the back. "But Max's still shying on the intel we need."

"You?" Deacon grinned skeptically. "Shying on intel?"

"Hey," She put her hands up with her palms out. "it's harder than it looks. But I got the name of the cemetery in a two and a half minute window."

"Well," Dean cried. "What is it?"

"Patience is a virtue, Dean."

"I am not having this argument with you right now, Max." He broke in.

"Green Valley Cemetery, geez." She smiled innocently up at Deacon who just ruffled her hair fondly.

*****All a Man Can Do Is Smile Back*****

"That's it," Dean slammed the trunk to the Impala shut, wiping the dirt off his face as he stared out into the dark trees that were peppered around the graveyard. "it's done."

Max, now donning her usual quota of jeans and one of her brother's old shirts, loaded her shovel into the back of the Charger. She looked up at the third quarter moon.

"We've got a couple of days till the next full moon." She sighed, leaning against her car and staring up at the sky. "You know I love you guys, right?" She moved her eyes over to her brothers who were also inclining against the Impala.

"Were you really a moonlighter, Max?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," She stood up straight, her arms tightly crossed against her chest. "I was just looking for a good time. Apparently, our daddy dearest didn't trust me being in the Corp by my lonesome so he asked Deacon to look after me. God, he gave me hell when he found out."

"So you made whiskey illegally?" Sam's jaw hung open.

"Yeah," Max nodded again, tossing him her flask. "It's called, uh, The Cooler King."

Sam took a swig out of the metal flask, coughing and beating his chest when he swallowed.

"You made that?"

"Better believe it, Herc."

"We'll make it through this, monkee." Her older brother looked at her with dewy eyes. "We'll see it through...alive! Come what may. Nothing will ever change that."

* * *

**The Road So Far...**


	7. The Proof of the Pudding

**First off, today is January 24th which means I get to say a BIG happy birthday to Deanna Kripke (Eric's wife), Dean Winchester, and Jessica Moore! **

**Secondly, if you haven't read any of sweetkiwi604's work you should. It's gold, I tell ya!**

**Lastly, I've been studying transcendentalism for a couple of weeks so the beginning of this chapter is my salutation to the greats like Emerson, Whitman, Dickinson, and Thoreau. It may be a bit dry and dull so I do apologize. I thought it'd set up a good foundation for the rest of the chapter.**

**Happy readings! And rememeber to RR&R: Read, Refresh, and Review (cheesy, I know)**

**wandertogondor**

**P.S. ****Hope everyone was able to catch last night's episode. Dean had William Wallace in the bag! Spot on, my fair handmaiden, spot on!**

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Max's POV

Driving a 1968 Dodge Charger, in Kentucky, at midnight, under a bright moon, without having in my thought any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed an immaculate vindication.

Though the clouds hung low in a white mist over the dew stained grass, music wearily played from the speakers of the muscle car. I can only sit and soak in the perfect ethereal cadence and glow of each note that rose and fell like the vast green landscape that I was driving past. Each strum of the guitar that I heard, each blast of the drum, each word that was sung brought me closer and closer to tears; the psychedelic tune and the hypnotizing moon.

If a man could enhance the mind-altering experiences of a philosophical sonnet, then he would not be without friends. To discover the even beat would be like to discover the blue in the sky or the green in the grass. And to linger behind the large wall that a man would have built for himself to escape the tyrannical bureaucracy and to remain faithful in many marred relationships would be to crumble into his own self. The men who hold such lofty positions in the ruling of a nation would like no more than to separate themselves from lesser men. No innocence or goodness lingers in such a world!

Rising from the pillows of my own self-pity I find myself standing in a golden topped forest. The tall trees rise far above me. Each branch is sturdy with the knowledge of the ages. The sun streams through the leaves and through my very being as if they think that they can reflect the pure rays of sunshine into the black soul that every man may possess. A slow breeze rushes through the open window, furling and spinning with the soft slide of the music that gently slithers out into the black night and toward the pale moon. Every illuminated cloud in the sky whispers the songs unsung by the earth below. Every raindrop, every tear, every symphony, every cacophony that comes out the mouth of nature will transpire into a bastion of vindictive measures of each star that shines.

The psychotropic rhythm and the rolling hills that span the land from left to right. There is no telling where the sky meets the land or where the land meets the sky. One can lose themselves behind a single knoll that can cover any man's sin. I am the singular manifold of every tune caught by the gust of wind that blows through the overgrown heads of rye that stands about the hillock. The range of musical styles and the multi-genre undertones tribute the fallen kin that are buried in the six foot trench beneath our feet, deep under the lush timeless wind.

Every shiver that peppers my arm or every wave of distress that reddens my face cannot compare to the moment that the natural order of things pressed on the brake. The sky stood above me. The ground lay before me. The convoluted curve of the rambling wind wisps around me. The creatures of the darkness chirp in the savanna enveloping me. The music plays on. The music plays on and with it takes the goodness of the world and the innocence of a child. Every chord hypnotizes my very being. It pulls me back into the world that is rid of each and every influence of the corrupted human nature that is tainted with guilt. Each wave of goodness and the purity this grunge is so deprived of floods back over me and to the downtrodden. Each light that reflects from the invisible sun is changing to shadow. It casts its mournful shroud over all we have ever known. Despite this, the song remains the same. I can only sit and soak in the perfect ethereal cadence and glow of each note that rises and falls like the vast green landscape that I am driving past.

And for this, I am glad to the brink of fear.

*****The Proof of The Pudding*****

The full moon was almost mocking Dean and me with its brightness. It was as if we had given it an olive basket and it was just spitting in our faces for the hell of it. I entered the modern motel room first, not knowing why I dared to be so close to Dean when the forces of supernatural physics were so evident. It would only take an accidental touch for the both of us to become wall pancakes. Then, why was I still here? It was a question that my brothers and I conveniently left untouched. As they bustled in, I pulled my knees against my chest, resting my chin on my legs and I curled up in the love-seat.

"You can't be serious," Dean groaned as he closed the door behind Sam and kicked off his shoes. "The proof of the pudding is in the eating, Sammy. Max, tell him that bow hunting is an important skill."

"Bow hunting is an important skill," I repeated with the same cadence that my brother had spoken with.

"See," Dean grinned smugly, vigilantly stalking toward the bathroom at the other end of the room. "Love me some pudding."

Sam just scoffed, his hair falling over his eyes as he set a portable radio on his lap and sat next to me, the couch cushions dipping under his weight. He fiddled with the dials for a bit, trying to find any noise but the static.

"What's up?" I peered over his shoulder, reaching over his arm to tinker with the antenna. I extended the long metal rod out toward the window but the static only increased.

"Am I early?" Crowley reclined on the bed with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed. "Who ever thought I'd be the punctual one?"

I laughed mockingly, my nose slightly wrinkled.

"We don't need that condescending crap, Crowley." Sam put in.

"Oh, do forgive me, jolly green," The demon threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood to saunter over to us. "Because as far as I can see, you need me."

"You must be shortsighted then." Sam sneered, getting to his feet and standing almost a foot over Crowley.

"Why can't you ruffians ever say hello like normal people?"

"'Normal people'? Wow, an asshole and a comedian. You're well-rounded, Crowley." I sarcastically said while grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and yanked him back onto the couch.

Crowley stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat and looked around absently.

"Where's the other Hardy boy? I need him to hear what I've got to say."

"Dean's behind you," My youngest brother retorted.

"Speak," Dean commanded in a low voice, standing between the King of Hell and his little siblings like a protecting wall.

"What do you remember about hell, Miss Winchester?" The demon glanced past Dean's shoulder. "You remember? It was that time you got some from a behemoth and croaked."

"Everything," I managed to reply pointblank.

"No. False. Incorrect. Wrong. You," Crowley stuck his finger at me. "You were never in hell, Nancy Drew. You fabricated the entire vacation in your sick little mind."

"That's impossible," I was almost too skeptical, but when wasn't I?

"You were full of guilt." The King of Hell raised his voice. "You only saw what you wanted to see because you thought you deserved it."

"Then where was she?" Dean said.

Crowley snapped his fingers and, in the blink of the eye, we were standing in well-furnished living room, the glass walls reflecting the blood red sunset that shone outside. The little switch that controlled my memory suddenly came back to play. The room that I had stood in so long ago was the same. The sunset was the same. The furniture was the same. Everything was the same.

_Talk about proof of the pudding, huh?_

"Why would I dream of hell?" I finally cried. "Where would I have been for those ten months that I checked out?"

"You were here." Crowley answered, settling into the wing chair and folding his hands on his stomach. "You don't remember because you don't want to. I claimed you the moment you died. All we needed was the coin and now that we have that…you _will _finish your end of the story. You can't lay a finger on your denim-wrapped nightmare now but you can get close enough to waste him." We were back in the motel room in a flash when I said,

"Awesome. You know, I thought I made this clear, asshole," Carefully circling Dean and pressing my hand against Crowley's chest, I pushed him back menacingly. "I'm not killing him. He's mine. Not yours. Not Castiel's. Mine. Got it?"

"Gee, monkee, you could have said that to my face."

"Can it, Dean!" I growled; my eyes still locked on Crowley's. "You can either be with me against God or you can be sleeping with the fishes."

"Your abilities to persuade, Miss Winchester," He spoke slowly and superciliously. "are in need of a tune-up. Lucky for you, I was on your sniveling little side to begin with. Either you kill brother dearest or he kills you."

"Uh, sorry to break up the party but we're not alone." Sam motioned to the silent figures standing at the door. I felt the heat of the amulet burn starting to burn into my sin.

"Awesome," I muttered as I pulled off the brass figure-head and held it at my side by the long black string.

"Thanks Doctor Newcome," Dean sarcastically said to Sam, going to one side of the room. Crowley gripped my wrist, placing me at an equal distant from both of my brothers before approaching Castiel.

"Angel of Thursday, you try your kitten hands at flipping the coin, see if you can't kill off your pet squirrel."

Anticipation swelled up in my stomach. Cas pulled the coin from out of his pocket, turning the mintage between his fingers and glancing at his father. God didn't seem to be into the whole thing because his eyes were locked on me.

"Do it, Cas," I shifted my eyes off Chris just to hear Dean say.

With a deep breath, the angel flicked the coin vertically. The world seemed to stop altogether and the coin just kept on turning like the wheels in the sky that churn out our destiny. It turned and spiraled and cajoled in front of my waiting eyes. This couldn't be the end. Not for Dean. Finally, with a loud thump it fell on the worn carpet.

"Heads," Cas said in barely a whisper.

"No!" I yelled in opposition. "Flip again, Cas."

"Relax, Nance," Crowley picked up the coin, not hesitating to toss it through the air and catch it in the palm of his hand. "Hello, what's this?" He held up the head of the coin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"It means," The ground shook under our feet as God spoke. "Two heads can't make a tail. Another tribunal will be held at the next full moon."

"That's it?" Dean spoke, his arms outstretched to the side. "Come at me, bro."

"You two better beat it before I kick your ass back to hell and your ass back to wherever you came from, Cas." I snapped irritably turning to the angel and the demon.

"Until next time, Winchester's." Crowley kissed two of his fingers and put his hand in the air before disappearing.

"Alright, alright," I said to my brother's reasonably. "This is good. No. This is awesome. We just cheated death again. We've bought ourselves another month."

No answer.

"Look, I'm just trying to be optimistic here."

"Yeah, well, the only time you're optimistic is when you're scared to death, Max." Sam stated in a low voice.

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Right," Dean snorted with a smirk. "and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist."

"See, that whole wise-ass attitude isn't helping any, Dean." I put in.

"This is hard for you, Dean." God said. I hadn't noticed that he and Cas were still standing at the door. _Awesome._ "You throw away your life because you've come to assume that it'll bounce right back into your lap. The human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know... and more valuable than you can imagine. Your sister may feel the need to challenge my authority but you know that what I am saying is the truth. Learn from it. Take what I say to your heart. If you do, you will live."

Dean eyed him, his whole body tense and still.

"It would be wise to fear me, Maxine Winchester. If you don't then everything that you hold dear will crumble around you while you stand alone in this dark world."

"I want to know," I began slowly. "have you ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day? Yesterday, and days before, sun is cold and rain is hard, I know. Been that way for all my time. Till forever, on it goes through the circle, fast and slow, I know. It can't stop, I wonder.*"

God chuckled scornfully. "You can try and hide your true feelings but I know you heart, my daughter. And what your younger brother said is the truth. You don't want to die. Just a little part of you hopes that Dean will die for you."

"That's a lie!"

"Is it? Nobody wants to die."

"Just because you think that everyone is afraid of you and what you can do doesn't mean that I am." My argument was weak and childish but I was too far in to back down now.

"You should be, Maxine. Don't think that you're anything significant in this world. You are but a speck of dust in the universe. Small and worthless."

"I thought you were supposed to love me," I was talking to God but my eyes were begging for Cas to say something…anything.

"I do, my daughter. But you have tested the LORD's anger. That cannot be easily justified. I am sending my prophet to guide you from your sinful ways and onto the path of righteousness."

"Your prophet?" Dean scowled. "We don't need any more holy baggage around than we already have."

"My prophet will come. And when he does you will know the truth."

With that, God and his son disappeared.

"Awesome," I groaned.

"You say that a lot." Dean pointed out.

"Look who's talking." I snorted contemptuously. "So, what now?"

"We could look for a job." Sam suggested. "We could wait it out. But we won't know when Carver Edlund's going to pop in."

There was a knock on the door and a scraggly dark haired man, who was all scruff, stood with a smile.

"Hello, Sam, Dean, Max."

"Chuck?" I blanched, ransacking my memory for his familiar face.

"How do you know him?" Dean asked, standing at the corner of the bed a few feet away.

"Chuck's a trucker. He gave me a ride a few years ago. How do you know him?"

My brothers shared soulful looks.

"Awkward," Chuck said with a grin, twiddling his thumbs.

"Chuck's the prophet of God, Max." Sam informed.

"That escalated really quickly. While we're at this whole second identity thing: I'm Padme Amidala and Chris is really Anakin Skywalker."

"It's funny how that worked out," Dean chuckled. "Seeing that he's trying to kill you."

"I guess I'm catching a ride with you hardcore Winchester's now." Chuck playfully punched my shoulder.

"Don't touch my sister, Chuck." My older brother ordered.

"Sorry," He timidly folded under Dean's frown.

"So, what's the truth?" I asked, sitting on the couch so Dean could grab a drink at the kitchenette.

"The truth," Chuck stammered. "What do you mean the truth?"

"God said that you would know the truth." Sam said, looking over his long hair.

"Truth?" He rubbed his chin and kept repeating the word as if that would help him remember any faster. "Oh, the truth! The truth, right, the truth. Well, the truth is that Max didn't actually go to hell. She just dreamed about it because she was filled with guilt."

"We got that," I said deadpan.

"You know?"

"Yeah," Dean cocked his head sardonically. "our friendly neighborhood moral officer spilled the beans."

"Then, do you mean about the Colt?" Chuck rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Whoa," Sam took a few steps from the sidelines. "what about the Colt? Why does everything come back to the Colt?"

"There's a story—it's just a story, I don't know if it's true—but when Cain was claimed by Phthonos it was said that Phthonos gave him a sharp rod to kill Abel with. Samuel Colt somehow got a hold of whatever was left of that rod and melted it down to make the bullets to the gun."

"Did the coin come off of that rod too?" Dean asked with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Chuck nodded. "So, we find the rod and then what?"

"Well," The Prophet of God, with all his powers and abilities, hesitated. "the original metal oar is long gone. There's one more bullet floating around."

"Where is the bullet and what do we do with it, Chuck?" I was nearing hysteria. The man was just going around in circles.

"You have to shoot God."

"But nothing can kill God," Sam paced back and forth, between me and Dean.

"It's not supposed to kill God. It's supposed to kill God's vessel."

My brother's eyes narrowed and turned to me in one swift motion.

"No." I stated in a low voice. "We're supposed to save people, not kill them off. And not Chris. Swear to me, Dean, that you won't do it."

"Monkee,"

"No!" I leapt to my feet, and if looks could kill I would have had to bury a few bodies. "There has to be another way."

"God only has one vessel. He can't jump from meat suit to meat suit. This was predestined." I just wanted to drown out Chuck's explanation with my own music. "Either you kill God's vessel and keep him out of your hair or you or your brother die."

"Are you guys seriously considering this?"

"Max," My little brother started for me but I bound out of his reach. "You know that all of this could be over if you just cooperate."

"Zip it, Sam." I snapped, looking Dean square in the eyes. "We're going to end this the way it's supposed to end, Dean Winchester. I don't want you to put up a bitch fit. I don't want you going to the crossroads or making some deal with God. Chuck, if worse comes to worse and Dean or Sam are on the brink of death, I want to know where the bullet is."

"It's not anywhere you would want to go, pumpkin."

"Don't. Call. Me. That." My teeth were ground so hard together that I thought I may lose the ability to eat chips. Pumpkin was what Bobby called me and he was the last thing that needed to come up right now. "Just tell me where the bullet is. No more beating around the bush. I swear to God, you're making my upchuck reflex come back and I haven't had a drink all day."

"The bullet is in Rock Ridge, Colorado. While you're at it, a marathon runner face-floored there the other day, I suggest that you bow-legged giants better hit the road."

"You know what I hate more than God perving on my man?" I sneered in Chuck's face. "It's when a Rob Benedict doppelganger tells me what to do. You should scram and go back to that heavenly shithole where you came from."

"You really have issues with higher power, don't you Maxine?"

"What can I say?" I smoothly let out, my ruffled feathers calming down as I shrugged, palms pointed up. "I'm a rebel without a cause, and I don't bode too well with the Man, thank you very much."

When I turned to Chuck, he just smiled, looking from each of my brother's faces then to me.

"Dude," Dean chided. "quit looking at her like that."

"If you need me," Chuck reminded. "I'll be writing my book. Just holler." Then he disappeared in the air.

"I should get some angel mojo on me so I can do that too." I snickered.

"You don't need angel mojo." I could tell that Dean's voice was straining to stay even, even as a boyish grin crept over his mouth. "You have to be Batman. And you all know that I'm the Batman in this relationship."

As if it were a subconscious element that was seared into our brains since adolescence, Sam and I said 'I'm Batman' at the same time.

"Did you forget what day it is, Dean?" Sam asked, trying to distract our brother while I ducked behind the couch.

"No," Dean crossed his arms against his chest. "It's January 24th."

"Happy birthday, Dee." I stood with a broad smile etched on my face as I handed a neatly wrapped box to Dean.

"No way," He gawked as he fumbled through the old cassette tapes that Sam and I had spent a lot of money trying to find and collect. "These albums are so hard to find: _Led Zeppelin: BBC Sessions, Paranoid_?"

"Sam was griping about how you listen to the same two albums over and over again," I talked to their reflections while I washed my hands at the sink.

"How did you get these?"

"Eh," I shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I saw a few sights, caught a few rides…broke a few laws. No biggie."

"You know," Sam started out slowly. "Maybe we could stop in Lawrence before we go to Colorado."

"Sam—" Dean and I said at the same time.

"Just hear me out." He quickly interrupted. "Whatever God does to break us up we'll just prove to him that we can regroup in hell. That's what dad trained us to do, right? He trained us to stay together, and I don't know about you, but that's what I'm aiming to do."

"Easy for you to say, Sam," Dean said, sitting at the table and rifling through his new collection of cassette tapes. "You don't have voodoo on you."

"Maybe he's right," I was surprised to hear myself talk but the words just spewed out on its own. "This may be the last chance we have. I haven't seen mom in a long time."

And, for once in his life, Dean didn't put his dukes up and fight back, though reluctant. Thankful for that much, I just shoved my clothes into my bag and walked out to the Charger. I didn't regret anything. That may not sound like much to you, but if I could find right words to explain how vindicated I felt at that moment I would pay good money to…because the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Dean knew it from the very beginning.

It just took me a few years to work out.

* * *

*_Have You Ever Seen the Rain?_—Creedence Clearwater Revival

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**The Road So Far...**


	8. Viva la Lawrence

**I felt like I was obligated to upload another chapter no matter how short. The next chapter will have the actual hunt from the episode "Yellow Fever" (one of my favorite episodes). I don't know about you, and I know this is might seem horribly annoying to everyone including the 49ers, but I am super proud of my Baltimore Ravens...way to end the season Ray! **

**I'm seriously running out of fillers between this chapter and the next trial. So I would love it if anyone suggested something-anything. Thank you for everything, my dears :)**

**wandertogondor**

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_…__And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. D__on't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder…_

Mary Winchester always said that angels were always watching over her children. _Man, was she wrong_. Max scoffed, subconsciously putting more force on the accelerator. November was always cruel to the Winchester's but February was even worse for some reason. Maybe it was the cold.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, sensing the cantankerous air in the Charger.

"I haven't been back here since mom died," She admitted as they entered the Kansas state line.

"You mean Lawrence?"

"No, I mean Kansas."

"So, you've never done a job here?"

Max shook her head.

"What if you needed to drive through?"

"I drove around," She said like it was obvious.

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think, Max?"

"Dean and I made a deal that we'd never come back…Too many bad memories. And I knew that if I even set one foot in Kansas Lawrence would be the first place I'd go to. I didn't think it was worth doing behind Dean's back. But he obviously didn't think twice about it."

"It wasn't on Dean. People were going to die there, Max. In our house."

"Oh, Sam, you and your excuses. So what if a few people died? People die all the time."

"People die of old age and heart attacks, Max." He justified. "There's always a science behind it. But when it comes to a poltergeist then it's not as believable."

"You took out a poltergeist?" She questioned skeptically. "Dean's good but I got to admit that a poltergeist is one hardcore son of a bitch."

"We didn't. Mom did."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your right, but I'm telling the truth."

"Do you still think she's there?" Max whispered, afraid to jinx it if she asked any louder.

"No. Her spirit canceled out the poltergeist."

Max took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders for good measure. "How long will it take to get home if we keep heading on I-70?"

"Close to an hour," Sam sighed, hating the way she changed the subject like Dean. "Aren't you going to go to the cemetery?"

"It's just an empty grave, Sam. It's just a slab of granite put up by some great uncle we've never met before."

"Funny," Sam quietly scorned. "that's what Dean said."

*****Viva la Lawrence*****

"Yeah, I changed my mind." Max began high-tailing it back to the Charger. Sam caught her arm, reeling her back to walk up the steps of their childhood home. "This was a bad idea, Sam. A very, very, very bad idea!"

"You took a knee full of shrapnel in Iraq, Max, I'm sure you can do this." He whispered in her ear as he knocked on the white painted door.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Max reminded as an elderly woman answered the door, her graying hair set in victory rolls.

"Can I help you?" She asked, looking from Sam to Max.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sam smiled politely. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my sister. We used to live here when we were younger."

"And you'd like to take a look-a-roo around the old place, wouldn't ya?" She grinned, shuffling to let them in. "Who's the grim feller?"

The youngest Winchester glanced back at Dean who leaned against the Impala, a scowl on his face.

"That's our brother," He remarked. "He's not the best with sentiment."

"You coming, dear?" The woman asked Max, smoothing down her skirt.

Max nodded hesitantly, poking her head into the foyer before slowly stepping in. The walls were pulling her in. She wanted no more than to run out of that damned house. All these years Max had always thought that Kansas was the symbol of home. But what was home? Was home comfort...hope...happiness? Was home four walls? No, it wasn't four walls. Seedy motels had four walls. A home didn't always have four walls. Walls trap you like an animal. She absently ran her fingertips along the wallpaper as she walked into the kitchen.

"What happened to the previous owners?" She heard Sam ask. "Jenny, and her kids, Richie and Sari?"

"Oh, they moved out years ago. The poor girl was mumbling something about evil spirits. Now, I don't believe in any of that brouhaha."

"I see," Sam kept a sharp eye on his sister, watching her climb up the stairs. She stood at the hall for the moment, feeling the warm sun stream through the clean windows.

A surge of quivers imploded within her chest. Something in her said to turn back but another part of her said to walk straight to the nursery. So she did. After shutting the door gently behind her, Max glanced around the room. Boxes labeled with books and old photographs were stacked against the opened the window quickly and stuck one leg out. Easing her other leg afterwards she kept her elbows locked on the window sill. Max slid down the side of the green painted house and fell against the concrete.

"There is a god," She mumbled ironically, getting to her feet in one piece and walking to the large tree at one side of the yard. She knelt down, digging at the loose dirt at the base of the tree trunk. After she had made a deep enough hole, she pulled her own set of dog tags from over her head and dropped it into the ground.

"What happened to you?" Dean questioned as he saw his sister stumble toward him and lie over the hood of her car.

"Jumped out the side of the house." She muttered, half her cheek pressed against the sun-kissed metal. "I can't stand this place. I thought that I'd live my entire life never coming back here and look at me now, Dean. It's been thirty years since mom died. Thirty useless years of dealing with the aftermath of dad's crusades. Was it worth it? You know, when Crowley flips that coin and it lands on heads the only person who can get me out of it is me."

"And me,"

Max sat up with a scowl.

"What?" He questioned with innocent curiosity.

"Deep revelation, Dean, I'm having a real moment here and that's what you come back with? And me?"

"Do you want a poem?" He asked, readjusting his stance against the Impala.

"Moment's gone," Max slid off the car and crossed her arms, mimicking her brother's pose.

"Does Sam know you went full Steve McQueen?"

"No, but watch this," She grinned. "One, two..."

"Max!" Sam burst through the front door, stopping halfway down the porch when he spotted his older siblings beaming at him.

"You're good," Dean complimented, nodding his head with an impressed smirk as Sam glared them down as he joined. They waved a silent goodbye to the old woman who stood at the door then went back inside, shaking her head.

"Now what?" Dean asked, fishing out his own set of keys. "Colorado?"

"Did you know that you can't drive a black car on Sundays in Denver?" Max asked, with a grin. "It's true."

"Well, then we're all screwed." Her older brother replied, pursing his lips like he always did. It might have been the last time Max ever saw him purse his lips like that.

Dean never liked doing what he was told. He never liked putting his family in danger. And somehow, Max figured that it was all her fault. There was only one way to make it right. She had multiple plans all figured out with badass fight scenes and hardcore one-liners. But she never seemed to survive at the end of every one.

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**The Road So Far...**


	9. Scars of War

**So, I am seriously considering just stopping this story entirely. I don't think I'm feeling it anymore. Would you like me to go on?**

**wandertogondor**

**p.s. I know this chapter is pretty...crappy. It's a quick sorry for not updating for a whole month. **

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"Babe, slow down," Chris chuckled, sitting on the kitchen table. "I'm not going anywhere."

"That hunt was too close, Chris." Max motioned him to pull his shirt off while she ran a needle over a lighter flame. "It's like these vamps are hyped up on acid."

Chris watched her with devoted eyes. She had minor cuts on her clear skin, accompanied by splotches of purple bruises down her neck and arms. Despite these discrepancies, Max Winchester worked with a quick militaristic calmness as she thread the blackened needle. She scanned the deep gash on his upper arm for a second before placing her hand on the throbbing skin.

"It's not that bad," She said in little less than a whisper, her voice laced with indifference.

Chris let a hiss of pain escape between his clenched teeth when she poured alcohol over the ugly wound. Max hesitated, sweeping her troubled eyes up toward his grimacing face. He nodded gently, bracing himself for the feeling of the needle piercing his arm.

"How's your knee?" He asked, trying to take his mind off the pain.

"Hurts like hell, thanks for reminding me."

By now, Chris had gotten used to the notable Winchester sarcasm. "You never told me how it happened."

Max sighed loudly in exhaustion. It was nearly one in the morning and he wanted a story. "I was doing a patrol one night. A tank exploded from an enemy grenade and I caught a piece of it."

Chris felt her fingers graze over his own scar. It wasn't hard for him to recall the force it took for the bullet to rip through his shoulder then lodge itself in his shoulder. Max's eyes fluttered to meet his, a brief flash of familiarity passing her pupils. She tugged at the corner of her mouth, focusing wholly on running the needle snuggly through the wound then broke the thread to secure the knot.

"Max," Chris slid off the table and held his arms out for her embrace but she just limped past him. She gripped the breakfast table till her knuckles turned white.

"Make sure that next time's not this close, Chris," She glanced back at him before going toward the bedroom.

It was late. Chris pulled out his phone to check the time. It was a few hours into November 2nd. That was why she'd been on edge for the last week. It was why she'd disappear into the bathroom for hours at a time with an old metal box filled with smoky smelling pictures.

He entered the bedroom just to see her face curl into a wince as she rotated her knee cap, her teeth grit and her jaw clamped shut.

*****Scars of War*****

Deacon had always told Max that soldiers don't die, they simply regroup in hell. Her brother's had gone to hell; they've regrouped and refreshed. And Max? She was still due to take a break to see the sights and feel that sweet self-loathing. Life may talk a good game but it's always been the proof of the pudding that took the cake. And sometimes life just wanted to be a total bitch so that everything that could go wrong would go wrong. Just look at what happened to Bobby or Adam. They were all alone in the world. There was no higher power looking out for them.

"Are we there yet?" Max whined childishly, hugging her knees while Sam drove the Charger. "It feels like we've been driving forever."

There was another lapse of silence. She muttered moodily out the window, scratching the back of her neck impulsively.

"'Forever' as in forty-five minutes?" He reached over to pull the ends of her hair. She swatted his hand away.

"My head hurts," Her palm pressed against her throbbing temples. "I don't want to go to Colorado. I just want to wait it out. I don't know, Sam, it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel."

"That's hellfire, Max,"

She laughed, almost happily. "Screw destiny right in the face. I'm not going to waste your time with all that heart to heart crap. Let's just find some nice cabin near the beach where we can crash under the radar for the next month. Killing God won't stop anything."

"We can try," He suggested with the same amount of sincerity that Max remembered Chris would sometimes use.

Her fingers brushed over her knee where blotches of skin-colored scars were splotched over her knee. It'd healed over the years. It was a slow process but she would never imagine forgetting the war zone.

"Come on, Hercules, I'm serious," Max grinned, jumping slightly in her excitement. "We should break into a cabin and drink all the beer."

"So, you don't want to go get the bullet that can possibly save you and Dean?"

"I don't want to anymore." She let out half a breath. "I've spent all this time being miserable. I don't want to anymore."

*****Scars of War*****

"I can't believe we're ditching a job for a vacation," Dean muttered under his breath as they entered a lonely cabin near a large lake. He watched Max skip through all the rooms, a wide grin on her face. "I'll have whatever she smoked."

Sam pursed his lips in his girl face and tossed his duffel on a nearby chair.

"This place is awesome!" She bound into the foyer. "There's a bunk bed upstairs. I call dibs on the top bunk."

"Dammit," Dean cursed under his breath, obviously disappointed at loosing the best seat in the house.

"Guys," Sam brought them back to reality. "just remember that we have to stay on the down low. Here," He handed his sister a pain reliever.

"Just one?" She stared down at the pill in her palm incredulously. "Keep 'em coming, Herc. I need four at most,"

"So, you're serious about skipping his job?" Dean asked skeptically, he had never seen Max jumping a hunt.

"Don't get so wound up over spilled milk," She replied, taking a pot of potpourri from the skinny magazine table and taking a sniff. "I'm sure you can go out and capture a wild alligator to regain whatever manliness you lost."

"Thanks," He threw over his shoulder while walking to the fridge. "I'll make sure to get Sam right on that."

Max settled on the couch in front of the dusty television set and hugged a pillow against her body. The entire house smelt like old books and relics of the past. It was intoxicating. There was a loud running sound before Dean rolled over the back of the couch and fell on top of her with two beers in his hand. Immediately, Max was thrown against the far wall while Dean just missed the window.

"Son of a bitch," He groaned when he saw that the beer he had opened for himself had spilled all over the carpet.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Max screamed at him from across the room, half-heartedly trying to pull her wrists from the wall.

"I didn't know you were sitting on the couch."

"Dude, I was sitting right there on the couch. Did you need me to spell it out for you? 'Dear Dean, please don't go full Bernard Pollard or we'll become a wall pancake.' Oh, wait,"

"Really, guys?" Sam threw his arms up at the entrance to the room, rolling his eyes and walking back up the stairs.

"Thanks for the help, jackass," They both shouted behind him, knowing full well that there was nothing that he could have done anyway.

"Settle down," Crowley stood in the middle of the room with a cocky smirk on his face. "How does Jolly Green deal with your constant yabbering?"

Max fell to the ground and sauntered to the middle of the room before plopping on the couch and turning the t.v. on.

"Miss Winchester," The King of Hell leaned his elbows against the back of the couch and brought his head close to hers. "can we talk? In private,"

"Not now, Crowley, _The Bold and the Beautiful _is on." She didn't even look back, taking a sip of the beer that was still left in the bottle.

"Yeah, man," Dean threw in from the wall. "get lost."

Crowley stood up straight, slowly circling the furniture to stand under Dean's suspended body. "You should probably call your boyfriend. You know, the same guy trying to kill your sister off."

"Crowley, shut up and get out." Max ordered from the couch. "Cas'll get here when he gets here. We don't need you commentating."

Crowley unwillingly disappeared, leaving the two oldest Winchester's in a still room with episodes from the soap opera breaking the silence. And that was all.

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**The Road So Far...**


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